The Secretive Wife (More Than a Wife Series Book 2)

by Jennifer Peel

  “Hey, Fiona, what’s the verdict?”

  “You’re all set. I made the reservation and you should be getting the confirmation by email any minute now.”

  “Perfect. Thank you.”

  “One more thing.” She hesitated. “I was checking your fan mail today and one of the emails I came across was, well, maybe personal; if not, it might be considered stalking in nature. I’m not sure, but I wanted to run it by you before I flagged it and sent it off to be investigated.”

  I braced myself for another ridiculous made-up scandal or half-truth. Or maybe it was someone claiming to be my long-lost relative in need of money. There had been several of those already. “Lay it on me.” I sounded braver than I felt. I was too tired to deal with any more nonsense.

  She cleared her throat.

  Dearest Delanie,

  Weird they used my real name.

  We’re not sure if this is the correct way to contact you, so we hope you receive this. We’ve been looking for you for some time now, but weren’t exactly sure you would find this welcome, though we would love nothing more than to see you again. There is also someone else who would love to meet you. We know you wanted to cut all ties to ease your pain, but maybe now since some time has passed and you have obviously gone on to do great things in your life, we thought you might have changed your mind.

  We will be forever grateful to you for the beautiful gift you bestowed upon us nine years ago and would love to share part of it with you as we had intended. It has come to our attention that you will be touring the country and stopping not far from our new residence in Savannah. We are willing to meet you anywhere—name the time and day. Please feel free to call us at 555-287-9064 or email us at this address.

  Most sincerely,

  Anna and Henry

  I dropped my phone, unable to catch a breath.

  “Del, are you there?” Fiona called out.

  This couldn’t be happening now. I needed more time. Peter needed more time.

  “Del.”

  I picked up my phone, shaking as I never had before. “Fiona, please forward me the email, but don’t tell anyone about it.”

  “No problem. Do you know these people? What gift are they talking about?”

  Yeah, I knew them. And they were talking about her. My baby. “Please just send me the email.”

  I hung up so I could have my nervous breakdown. I got up and paced around the family room feeling like I was going to vomit, possibly pass out. How was I going to go upstairs and tell my husband about her? And how could I meet her after all this time, after giving her away?

  I had to tell Peter the truth. He had to hear it from me first. Who knew if Anna and Henry had told anyone who I was. They weren’t the type who would, in fact, they were the loveliest of people, but I took nothing and no one for granted anymore. I’d been burned too many times the last few weeks not to be cautious and question everyone’s motives.

  Peter was reasonable and kind, I tried to comfort myself. When he heard the story, he would understand why I had kept her from him, from everyone I could. But what if he didn’t? I grabbed my heart. It didn’t matter now. I had no choice.

  I gripped the railing up the staircase to keep me steady. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, and on top of the nausea, I thought I was going to pass out. My entire body had to be forced up the stairs as if each limb knew the danger we faced. By the time I made it up the stairs, I was already in tears. I tried to wipe them away to at least not alarm Peter right away, but it was no use.

  When I padded into our room, I found that Peter hadn’t showered yet. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in the semi-dark with his eyes closed and hands folded as if he’d been praying. I took a long look at him and said a prayer of my own that went something like, “Please don’t let me lose him.” I had no idea if God was there. He hadn’t answered any of my other pleadings, but if I only ever got one prayer answered, this would be the one I would choose.

  I walked into the bedroom slowly, knelt in front of my husband, and took his clasped hands.

  He opened his eyes and stared hard at me. He didn’t ask me why I was crying; it was almost as if he had expected to see the tears. His hands didn’t take mine; instead, they were stiff, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted me to touch him. Did he already know? How could he? This would be major news if it had already gotten out. Despite his behavior, I had to proceed.

  “Peter.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  He sat up straighter, pulled his hands away, and waited.

  “Please listen to me before you say anything.”

  His eyes frosted over, and I felt the cold wash over me.

  I closed my eyes for a moment and took a breath before I could go on and meet his frigid gaze. “Peter, I . . . I . . . had a baby a little over nine years ago, a daughter. A beautiful daughter,” I cried.

  The way his eyes popped told me that wasn’t what he expected at all, which made me wonder even more why he was behaving so coolly toward me.

  He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a large breath. “You had a baby?”

  I nodded. “I gave her up for adoption.”

  He stood up, making me falter to the side. I had to catch myself before I fell over. He paced across our bedroom, rubbing his neck and taking big intakes of breath and forcibly breathing out. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

  I stayed on my knees, pleading with him to understand. “I’m not sure. Believe me, I’ve wanted to.”

  “You’re not sure? You’ve had over four years to tell me, Delanie,” he raised his voice. “That’s not a good enough answer for me, but maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. You love to keep secrets, don’t you?”

  “Peter, I didn’t want to keep this from you, but I felt like I had to. Will you please listen to me?”

  “The only thing I’m going to listen to you tell me right now is what you’ve been doing on Wednesday nights for the past few months. We’ll go from there.” Even in the dark I could see his eyes blazing with fury.

  I shook my head, unsure. “What are you talking about? And what does that have to do with anything right now?”

  He looked at me not only in disbelief, but as if he loathed me. “It has everything to do with what we’re talking about. I don’t even know who I’m married to anymore,” he yelled. “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt and think of any other plausible reason you’ve been lying to me for months—make that years—but you don’t deserve it. Tell me, Delanie, where have you been going on Wednesday nights?”

  Amid the gut wrenching pain he was inflicting on my soul, I was more and more confused. “You know I’ve been going to the shelter except for the last couple weeks I’ve been here.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Oh, I know you go there. Krista says you are one of her best volunteers.” His tone was mocking and cynical. “Imagine my surprise when I agreed with her and told her how proud I was of you even though I missed you because many of those nights you didn’t get home until after ten sometimes. She laughed at me and told me she couldn’t be to blame because they closed the campus at eight every night. No one goes in or out after that, according to her. Explain that to me,” he dared me to contradict him in the most unrelenting manner.

  I sank farther to the floor. My head rested against the bed. Tears soaked my cheeks. “What are you accusing me of, Peter?” I looked up at him but saw a stranger instead of the man I loved, from his crimson face to his clenched fists.

  “Just tell me the truth. Tell me what you’ve been doing,” he demanded.

  In that moment, I realized if he didn’t know me well enough to know I would never be unfaithful to him, what did it matter where I was? Or that I was trying to do something for him by taking those damn classes. I lifted my head and, for the seconds it took me to say what I knew spelled our goodbye, my tears stopped. I accepted defeat. “It appears I was wasting my time.”
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  My head fell back against the bed while he shook his head at me in disgust.

  “I never thought I would say this, but my mom was right. I should have been careful about a woman who keeps secrets.” He stomped off and slammed the door.

  I found myself once again not belonging anywhere and wishing I could fly to the moon.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  My head leaned against the airplane window. I wished I could wake up from this nightmare, but when I looked over at the empty seat next to me I knew this wasn’t a bad dream and there was no waking up from this hell.

  Peter’s words to me this morning kept playing in my head. He’d walked in to find me crumpled on the floor not far from where he’d left me the previous night. For a beautiful second, I hoped maybe cooler heads would have prevailed after a restless night alone to think about what had happened. What we said and didn’t say. I was about to tell him about meeting with Father Alan, but when Peter loomed over me, his red, swollen eyes that used to burn bright with his love for me were all but extinguished. Instead, they were charred with no warmth emanating from them.

  “I think it’s for the best if you go alone on your tour,” he’d said with no emotion. Then he left—without another glance or word—to who knows where wearing the same clothes from the day before.

  There was nothing left for me to do at that point other than to say goodbye to the house and life we had built together. I packed up what I could fit in my suitcases, including my old red typewriter, my trusted and true companion that now sat in its own case in the carry-on bin above me.

  My hand rested where Peter should have been. Or maybe he never belonged there. Perhaps deep down I always knew we were playing with borrowed time.

  I went back to leaning my head against the window, looking at the mass of white clouds and listening to the roar of the engines. There were no tears left to shed. I had left puddles of them on the bedroom floor. I couldn’t blame him for walking out on me. I should have told him the truth a long time ago. He deserved that. Now maybe he could go back to his first love and his life of obscurity before I entered the picture and disrupted his life. I wasn’t sure if you could go back to being a priest, but for his sake I hoped so.

  Now I had to figure out what to do with my own life. Starting with, should I meet my daughter? The thought terrified me. How could I explain to her why I gave her up? And what if she asked about Blair? I was done keeping secrets, but everything I had done was to keep her safe from him.

  Simon was right. The figurative sheet had come off, but this time there was no body suit underneath it. I was completely exposed. Every vulnerability, fear, and secret were out in the open. My worst fear had come to life, leaving me with nothing else to lose, not even the vulnerability that was stripped away because of the terrible gift life had handed me. Or I should say the one I had hand wrapped for myself by trying to hide my past.

  With the absence of vulnerability came other things, though, like overwhelming doubts about who I was or how I was I going to finish this book. Everything I thought I knew about Peter and me, and Hunter and Laine, was thrown into question. I had always thought Hunter and Laine were meant to be together, but now I wasn’t so sure. I mean, how could they be? Hunter, for all intents and purposes, was Peter. I thought I knew Peter, but my Peter never for a second would have questioned my loyalty to him. And he would have given me the chance to explain why I kept my baby a secret from him. I wasn’t blaming him for his reaction. He had every right to be upset at me for keeping something so big from him. But knowing I deserved his anger didn’t help with the crater he’d left in my chest when he ripped my heart out last night.

  Maybe the answer was to give myself over to Autumn Moone completely. She had taken so much from me, she might as well have it all. It’s not like I would be Delanie Decker for much longer. The thought made a tear spring up. I caught it before it had a chance to fall. There were more to shed after all, I guess.

  I couldn’t believe it was over. His mother’s plan had worked. She must be thrilled. Perhaps that’s where Peter had gone, and she was saying I told you so right at this very moment. Hopefully he would have peace now that he no longer had to choose between his wife and mother, because he had made his choice. No wife. I suspected that the forgiveness he had been longing to extend his mother would be easily given now too.

  Would he ever forgive me?

  Would I forgive me? Probably not. How could I? My secrets had cost me the love of my life. The only love I’d had in my life. When all this came out, I knew I would lose his family too. I shuddered at the thought of Sam and Avery hating me. And what about Joseph? Dad? I choked down the tears. For the first time in my life, I’d had a taste of what I’d always wanted, only to have it cruelly taken. I wound my wool wrap tighter around me wishing I could hide from myself beneath it. Not even the warmth it offered gave me any relief.

  I felt as if I was back in that delivery room handing my baby and all that I’d loved at the time over to Anna and Henry, wishing they made an epidural for my heart to take away the anguish that consumed me. I had refused one for the pain while I labored hard for five hours before I delivered her because I wanted to experience everything I could with my Baby X before she was no longer mine. I felt like I owed her at least that. For years after, it felt as if I walked around as a shell of a person until I met him. Peter.

  Now what?

  ~*~

  “Answer your damn phone, Del. What the hell is going on? Fiona says Peter isn’t with you and you looked like the walking dead today on camera. If you don’t call me, I’m flying out there tonight.”

  I was too emotionally and physically exhausted to call her back, along with everyone else who had left me messages and texts. Avery and Sam had left their fair share wondering why Peter hadn’t come, and what was going on, and if everything was okay. I would think that is was obvious it wasn’t. And why hadn’t Peter told them? They killed me when each of them said they loved me and they were there for me if I wanted to talk. I didn’t think that offer or the warm feelings would stand when they found out the truth.

  All I could do was text Joan, Don’t come early, before turning off my phone and throwing it in my bag. I had a reading to do in thirty minutes and the thought of Joan coming any earlier than planned exhausted me even more. It was bad enough that Fiona hovered. I knew she meant well and was worried, but there was nothing anyone could do. All I could do was play my part during this tour.

  Though apparently, I was doing a crappy job. I wasn’t sure what to do about the walking dead look. I didn’t think they made makeup strong enough to cover the bags under my eyes. I did the fake smiling thing at the signing earlier today, hoping that would help. I even shed some tears with some fans who told me stories of how my books had seen them through some tough times, like their divorces. They were real tears because I felt for them in all too real ways. The toughest part was holding back the tears when well-meaning fans wished me and my husband well.

  I was waiting for the moment the media got a whiff that Peter and I had split up. They were going to have a field day. Peter would hate me even more when the press hounded him for answers. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything I could do about that now.

  Fiona came bursting through the dressing room door where I was waiting among old, musty smelling costumes to go on stage, carrying a bottle of water and my favorite candy, sour cherry jelly beans. My lips twitched, too tired to smile at the best assistant ever who had orange hair now. She said it was her way to celebrate fall. Not sure what her bright pink tutu and leggings were celebrating today, but I loved she was comfortable with who she was.

  She held up the bag of candy. “You haven’t eaten today so I thought you might like these.”

  Normally I would have, but the thought of sugar on my already empty, twisting stomach made me want to heave. “Thank you.” I took the candy and water from her and set them next to me on the small, uncomfortable couch I was sitting on.

  She
tilted her head and pressed her lips together. “You don’t look good.”

  “That seems to be the consensus.”

  “That’s not what I meant. You’re one of those women we love to hate who would look good rolling out of bed, but you don’t look well. Maybe we should hit urgent care. You’re worrying me.”

  I grabbed the bottle of water and twisted off the cap before taking a sip to appease her. Or at least I hoped it would. “All good.”

  She rolled her eyes hidden behind her faux zebra print glasses. “Oh look, you’re magically better. If anything happens to you, Lucas will fire me, and Joan will put a hit out on me, so if you can live with that, just keep drinking your water and lying.”

  I let out a long sigh. “Fiona, you’re doing an exceptional job.” Everyone that LH Ink sent or hired locally for this leg of the tour had been great, from the publicist and sales reps to the media escorts and security. It just happened to be the worst time in my life, and as terrific as they had all been, especially Fiona, they couldn’t fix the seemingly irreparable.

  “That will make me feel so much better when you pass out on stage.” She handed me a tube of lip gloss.

  I took the lip gloss and applied it to my parched lips. I should be drinking more, if anything. “I’m not going to pass out.”

  She took the lip gloss back as soon as I was done with it. “Right. And Lucas and Joan aren’t sleeping together, and Santa Claus isn’t some overweight stalker with a raging case of diabetes.”

  A laugh bubbled up in me and escaped. “For that, you’re going to end up on his naughty list.”

  She wagged her eyebrows. “I sure hope so. I love me a good jolly fat man. There’s more to hold onto.”

  On that note, I stood up. I may have seen a few stars but didn’t mention it. I don’t think it went unnoticed, by the concern in Fiona’s eyes.